


Necessary Weapons

by methylviolet10b



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 14:09:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Specific enemies require specialized weapons. And when your foe wears many faces, you'd better have a variety of arms to hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Necessary Weapons

**Author's Note:**

> Written for JWP #3 over on Watson's Woes: **Prompt** : the word _Games_.
> 
> Warnings:  Relatively plotless and fairly odd. Random references. Largely pre-canon. **And absolutely no beta.** This was written in a huge rush. You have been warned.  
> 

  
  
  
  


As much as any army, man, or weapon, time is the enemy of a soldier. As a doctor in Her Majesty’s forces, I was not exempt from this truth.

And like an enemy, time wears many different faces, a plethora of uniforms. Defeat one aspect, and another will be right there, waiting for you. Time has an infinite number of regiments, and deploys them all.

Time runs strangely on the battlefield. Moments stretch out, hours twist and turn, and a split-second can mean the difference between life, a maimed existence, or death. In the thick of battle, or during any crisis, it is much the same in the medical tents as it is on the field. Bodies flow by in rivers, swept along by time’s racing current, yet individual moments stagnate, seeping deep into your mind and soul.

That is one element of time the enemy. But it is not the most dangerous one.

No, the most common and dangerous aspect of time as the foe of the soldier is how it pools and collects around you, day in and day out, while you wait for something to happen. Time becomes a sucking mire dragging against your spirits, dulling your edges, until you are near to drowning in sheer monotony.

The Army has weapons against this foe. Drills. Inspections. Routine after routine. Traditions. Marches. All deployed in a constant battle, waging war against the eternal enemy.

Doctors, too, have armaments to combat slow time. Cleaning. Preparing supplies and bandages against need. Writing out notes and maintaining records. Restocking. The steady pace of rounds. The long-honored rituals of consultations between doctors and nurses, orderlies and corpsmen.

Soldiers have their own weapons they bring to bear. Swearing. Fighting. Hazing. And games. Games of every type and description. Card games: three-card monty, poker, whist, pinochle, canasta, blackjack, and a thousand others. Dice games, cup games, every trickster’s rig and gamble. All this, all bet upon. Anything that could be wagered against, was, and large quantities of funds, favors, chores, and vouchers changed hands every day, the blood-drained victims of the unending battle against monotony. Against time.

I learned skills and battle tactics from all three taskmasters: the Army, my fellow doctors, and my fellow soldiers. Some I excelled at. My habit of chronicling began in medical school, and served me as well in my Army career as it had in the teaching hospitals. I gained a fondness for the precisely-made military corner on bedsheets, whether my own or those on the cots in the tents. I mastered many of the card-games and whiled away endless hours with my fellow soldiers.

I also learned the pleasures of gambling, perhaps too well. But with the Army around me, and a structured existence, it did not matter so much.

As an invalid facing the utter ruin of both my chosen careers, it mattered a great deal. It might have been my ruin, had I not retained one further weapon against tedium: the ingrained habit of balancing my cheque-book.

Even so, I might have lost my battles against time and boredom, had I not fallen in with Sherlock Holmes. Holmes introduced me to a whole new plethora of weapons against time, dullness, and monotony.

He also challenged me in every way to hoist all my arms against boredom and muster them in his defense. For a bored Holmes is the very worst enemy indeed, to others, and especially to himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted July 19, 2012


End file.
